


clear as day

by Phanicmode



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Secret Admirer, basically two nerds who like each other but neither knows it, eleven/max will show up later, lucas and dustin aren't in first chapter but will appear i promise, thats all enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:59:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanicmode/pseuds/Phanicmode
Summary: in which crushes are had, secret notes are delivered, and mike wheeler visits the library far more often than he has any right to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> helloooooo, so i haven't written anything in several months (and i feel especially guilty about that regarding my solangelo story if you've read that and are now here i'm sorryyyyy) but byeler is just so freaking cute and my fingers itched to make something for it. this story will probably be about three-four chapters long. enjoy! :)
> 
> also title is from the song cigarette daydreams by cage the elephant, pls give it a listen

“Mike, can I ask why we’re here yet?”

Max was draped dramatically over one of the rough wooden chairs of the library. She was the picture of careful indifference, one foot on the chair beside her and the other carelessly propped on the table. She was leaning back precariously, and her hair was halfway over her eyes, which were currently pointed in half annoyance and half curiosity at her sweater wearing friend Mike Wheeler. She popped a bubble with her gum loudly. Someone shushed her.

Mike however, kept his back turned. He was busy critically scanning the spines of the books of the nonfiction section, some soft with consistent use and some that screamed freshness in their crisp binding and white pages. He was looking for something specific, something his science teacher had mentioned to him in a conversation after class.

“Got it!” he exclaimed, whipping around excitedly and softly slamming the book onto the table. Max, despite herself, leaned forward to read the title.

“A History and Theoretical Discussion of Cosmology? Mike, I nearly fell asleep just reading this title.”

“No, no, no you don’t understand, this stuff is really interesting! It’s talking all about our place in the universe and the meaning of life and about parallel universes and shit. It’s so cool to think and talk about.” Mike looked eagerly for a better reaction and found none. “Whatever, it’s not like you’re gonna be the one reading it anyway.”

“I mean, you’re right,” Max said, “But I’m inevitably going to have to hear you ramble on about this for the next month. So please, if this is your new obsession, at least make your comments interesting.”

Mike rolled his eyes and stood up to check out. Max joined him, stretching her long limbs as Mike scanned the front desk with noticeable confusion.

“That’s weird.” He said.

“What’s weird?”

He checked his watch quickly and said, “It’s 4 o clock on a Thursday, normally Mrs. Pemberton would be here to check people out. She told me last week that she would bring me cookie.” He frowned.

Walking determinedly up to the front desk, he mentally prepared his angry inquiry about Mrs. Pemberton’s whereabouts, ready to argue with whoever had the audacity to replace her. He loved Mrs. Pemberton. She used to babysit him and Nancy, before Nancy was old enough to watch him herself. Now at 17 years old, he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he had always been fond of Mrs. Pemberton, and the two of them had bonded during his high school years over their mutual love of books. She had offered him a position at the library once or twice, but he had always turned it down.

Setting his book down briskly, he asked loudly (well, as loudly as he dared to in a library) where she was. The black back of the desk chair that had been facing him spun around with a start, as though the person in it had not heard them approach. This thought was furthered by the fact that the person was holding a small stack of papers, and the file cabinet behind them was open, but Mike stopped processing anything else about his surroundings and instead started processing the face of the boy in front of him.

He looked fairly small and lean, but he had a compactness to his arms that Mike noticed in his clutch of the papers. He was sitting down, obviously, but even then, it seemed that if he were to stand he’d still be at least a head shorter than Mike. This wasn’t really fair though, as Mike was one of the tallest people in his senior class. He had straight light brown hair that was shorter at the sides and swooped over his forehead, shadowing deep caramel brown eyes. Eyes that were quickly growing confused the longer Mike stared at him without saying anything.

“Um, sorry, what?” The boy asked. His voice was soft.

Mike remembered why he was here. He withdrew a little of the anger from his voice this time when repeating the question. “I, um. I was wondering where Mrs. Pemberton was. She told me she would be here today.”

The boy smiled a little sadly. Will. His nametag said Will. “Her daughter is apparently really sick, so she went to take care of her for a few weeks. But she was training me before she left, so I’m here to watch over the library while she’s gone.”

Mike blinked. “Is it just you here?” He looked like he was Mike’s age.

“Oh, uh no. There’s still the manager, but I like, check people out and stuff.” He smiled, a little nervously. His eyes wandered behind Mike in the pause after his words. “Oh, hi Max.”

“Evening Byers.” She popped her gum again. Will winced a bit at the sound and looked like he might reprimand her for it but stopped himself. Mike didn’t blame him. Max was intimidating. Mike did look between them confusedly for a second however. How had Mike never seen this boy before in his life, but Max happened to know who he was? Mike was always with Max and El. The Venn Diagram of people they were all friends with was one circle, and it normally just contained the three of them. But now didn’t seem like the time to ask about it. He faced Will again.

“Well, I just wanted to check out this book.” He pushed it forwards a little again, along with his library card. Will pulled it towards him.

“You like space?” Will asked absentmindedly, scribbling something down in front of him.

“Wh-yeah. Yeah. I love stars and stuff.” Mike flushed.

He finished scanning the book, and pushed it back to Mike quickly.

“Cosmology is an interesting subject. If you find anything in there that you want to discuss I’d be more than happy to.” Will smiled at him, and Mike’s cheeks felt warm as he nodded and took the book. It was a cute smile.

When they push through the glass doors and into the striking sunlight, Mike asks Max where they know each other from.

“Oh, Will? He’s in my 2d art class. I’ve told you about him before, I thought. That one kid who’s really good.”

Hm, Mike thinks to himself. He wants to ask more, but El suddenly appears before them with her car, honking and asking what took so long. Max climbs laughing into the front seat, but Mike hovers for one moment more to cast a look back at the doors of the library. But with the reflection of light on the doors and the squint in his eyes, he can only see his own reflection looking back at him. He shakes his head, and climbs in.

***

It's funny- once you meet someone new in a place that they’ve been all along, you start to see them everywhere. Maybe it’s your brain stopping your eyes from wandering over unfamiliar faces to alert you to a familiar one. Or maybe it’s that now you’re looking for them. Either way, it comes as a shock to Mike that suddenly Will’s face is suddenly around every corner, and Mike notices it each time. Will of course, doesn’t seem to notice him back. And why would he? He checks out hundreds of books to hundreds of people each day (well, that might be grossly overstating how many people go to the library these days, but the point stands). Why should Mike’s face of all people be the one to stick out to him? Mike doesn’t know why, but he wishes that for some reason, it would.

It had been about a week, maybe a week and a half since he’d gone to the library, and yet for some reason Will Byers had been on his mind constantly. He’d had crushes like this before, where he’d swear that he’d fallen in love with someone on first sight, but he didn’t think they’d ever stuck on him like this one had. Maybe it _was_ because he kept seeing him everywhere. Maybe someone had never felt so in reach, but so untouchable, before.

“You’re staring again. Why is it that you’re always staring somewhere lately?” El asks through a bite of her sandwich. They were sitting in the outdoor courtyard during lunch period. Will had just left. It seemed he was in the lunch rotation just before them.

El had always been very observant, since the day Mike met her. No one really knows where she was from, only that her family had severely mistreated her. She’d been found by their chief of police one morning, head shaved and shivering, barely able to speak English. He’d taken her in, taught her everything he knew, and then in middle school she was introduced to the public school system. People tried to be mean to her, but they learned very quickly that you respect Eleven or you get your ass handed to you. Her real name was Jane Eleanor, but people called her Eleven because that was how many people she punched on her first day of school. The nickname stuck, and she was fine with it- not only because it made her seem badass, but it could actually be derived from her name if she tried. Either way, she had a reputation for being very smart and very to the point, never mincing words if she could help it. So it’s no surprise to anyone that she is the one to call Mike out for his bullshit.

“Hm? No, I’m not staring. Just contemplating the nature of string theory.” He says this with a side glance at Max just so he can see when she rolls her eyes. It happens instantly.

“I knew letting you get that book was a mistake.” She munched angrily on a Dorito.

“What book?” Eleven asked. Mike pulled out his cosmology book, which he was ashamed to show was dogeared and paper tabbed. He didn’t like to dog ear books, because he knew it bent pages and people always reprimanded him, but it was far easier to him to be able to quickly return to his place. The tabs were passages he’d marked that he’d found interesting. Sadly, he couldn’t write in it, since it was a library book.

“What’s this?” Eleven flipped through the half that Mike hadn’t read yet and opened it to a seemingly innocuous page. In that page there was a slip of paper that Mike hadn’t noticed. Hell, how could he have, it was completely invisible from the outside! How El had seen it, Mike had no idea. He swore sometimes that she must have some kind of magic powers or something.

Interest piqued, he set down the apple that he had had no intention of biting into in favor of picking up the note. It was ragged on two sides, like it was the torn corner of a paper, and it was folded over. It wasn’t lined paper either- it had printed words on the sides facing out, nothing discernable though. Mike leaned back into his spot and opened the paper, not expecting anything. Maybe it was a previous reader’s notes, maybe it was the corner of a homework page trapped by pages of space and time.

Mike unfolded it and took in the words written in small, neat, and slanted letters:

“You have nice hair:)”

Max and El exchanged mirrored confused glances as Mike continued to stare blankly at the note held delicately between his hands. He had shown no outward reaction, until he suddenly sat up straighter a few moments later , shaking his head slightly. Max frowned a little bit more pronouncedly.

“What did it say?” she asked.

“It… It said, ‘You have nice hair’. But I don’t think it was meant for me, the last person who read the book must have been using it to hold their place or something.”

Max hummed disinterestedly, but continued to look at him carefully. His cheeks gave him away- even if the note wasn’t meant for him, he was still pleased by it.

“Well, I find it hard to believe that anyone other than you would ever read that book, but hey, you do have nice hair!” She reached over and ruffled it to prove her point, and he laughed and shoved her away. “Even if you do need to get it cut. You’re looking like a bush, bud.”

He flicked her off, but he was smiling broadly.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He picked up the apple again, and took a bite. Then he immediately set the apple back down and picked up a cookie instead. He was staring at the door again.

El and Max exchanged another exasperated look. The two of them were used to dealing with Mike’s dreamy antics. He tended to go into phases much like this one- phases where he’d find a new topic, a new obsession. It was all he would ever think about, all he would ever talk about, and he would get caught up in his own little dream of a world and forget that there were real things happening around him. The two girls had figured that his new obsession was going to be cosmology. But, when in a decisive rush Mike announced that he remembered he needed to get something else from the library, they shared the thought that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the book he was obsessing over.

***

Mike had a free period right after lunch. It wasn’t so suspicious to go to the library during your free period, right? People did it all the time. Mike had to remind himself that he wasn’t doing anything weird by going to see if Will was there. He wasn’t lying to the girls either. He did need to find a book for his Statistics project. But, if someone else had already offered to let him use theirs if he couldn’t find it, well, no one needed to know. He was just trying to be considerate by looking, that’s all.

He pushed open the heavy doors with little resistance and let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Everything was tinged slightly blue by the harsh contrast of high sunlight to industrial mood lighting. He let himself take a few steps in blindly until he was able to see with enough clarity to recognize that there was no one behind the desk- no one at all.

Mike felt a little spike of disappointment in his heart, but he didn’t let it get him down. Adjusting the strap of his backpack, he led himself through the familiar shelves of his beloved library. He might as well look for the book anyways if he was here. Then it would be even less of a lie. Mike hated not telling the truth anyways- El always reminded him that friends shouldn’t lie to each other. He often thinks she says this just so he’ll spill the beans about whatever he has going on, but he must admit, the transparency between the three of them had allowed them to become closer than he would’ve thought imaginable.

Mike, El, and Max. MEM, as some referred to them, or more aptly, as they referred to themselves, something most evident in their group chat title, “MEMinist”. They were an unlikely trio, the three of them. If any one person were to meet them individually, they probably would have been confused as to how they all fit up against each other. But in reality, they meshed so well that sometimes it was almost scary. El was the glue that held them all together- she was sweet and made each of them feel special and important. She always knew what was on their minds and how to get it out into the air, something that was very important with Max, who bottled her emotions up, and Mike, who felt too much and didn’t know how to express it. Max was hotheaded and impulsive- she was always dragging the other two to do something fun, to put the introverts into an out of comfort zone situation. But, Mike thinks, when he’s hanging out with them, he feels like an extrovert. They give him energy. And Mike, well. Mike engages them. He starts discussions, he checks in with them, and he always makes sure they’re okay.

But it wasn’t always like that. As Mike wanders aimlessly towards the section with books on Psychology and Statistics, he can’t help but muse about the past. How he and Max were bitter rivals when she came in fifth grade. How he didn’t have any real friends, just acquaintances, just people to hang out with every once in a while. How, when El showed up at their school, both of them had vowed, separately, to become her best friend. How both of them had succeeded.

“Are you finding everything okay?”

Mike just about jumped out of his skin. He turned quickly, his natural response already on his lips.

“Yes, I’m f-.” His words faded in his throat. It was Will, Will Byers, the boy he had gone out of his way to see, who had spoken.

He swallowed. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Will smiled up at him politely. Mike’s first instinct had been right, Will was shorter than him, but maybe not by as much as he had thought the first time. The top of his head came up to about Mike’s lips. _If I were to hug him,_ Mike thought, _his head would fit perfectly under my chin._ He cleared his throat quietly.

“Well, if you need help finding anything, or if you want to check out, I’ll be a few sections over shelving the Historical Fiction section.” He went to turn away, and Mike almost said something to make him stay longer, but as Will was turning, he stopped, stooped down, and picked up a paper from the floor.

“Here, you must have dropped this.” He smiled again and handed it over, going back to his section.

“But I didn’t-.” Too late. He was out of sight. Sighing a little bit, Mike turned to the paper he had been handed. It was a notebook paper, folded over several times.

He opened it, and started only a little bit when he recognized the handwriting- the same small, perfect letters that had been in his copy of A History and Theoretical Discussion of Cosmology. This time though, instead of complimenting his hair, the words spelled out:

“You’re cute when you’re deep in thought:)”

Mike felt a rush of heat at the revelation. There was no doubt about it. The notes were for him. Someone in the library must have seen him wandering through the aisles of the library and slipped the note on him at some point. He must have been so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed it. Blushing, he carefully folded the note back up and put it in the pocket of his jacket. He grabbed his bag and left without checking anything out, without even sparing a glance back to see Will.

Maybe if he had, he would have seen Will watching him go.


	2. Chapter 2

The months get colder. The leaves wither and become crisp, morphing into golden hues before sinking in a crunchy brown blanket on the sidewalks. The hours of sunlight shift towards the morning, the sun beginning its descent into night before the day even starts to peak. Mike is able to see his breath in the morning walk to El’s car, which is now puffing out more clouds of steam and smoke as ever before in an attempt to warm the frozen trio on the way to school. Winter is approaching. Approaching, but not yet here.

Mike has become sidetracked. Maybe this isn’t the operative word, because to an outsider, Mike looks like he’s come back onto the track, his wheels securely locked into the cables, his car set towards a path of academics. Senior year is, currently, kicking his ass. All upperclassmen the year before had said that senior year would be a breeze, and Mike supposed it would have if he had given himself a break. But he was in the highest classes he could take, and the rigor was finally shaking him. The thing that he had become sidetracked from was his quest to know Will.

In the month or so since his first encounters with Will, he had barely seen the boy. In the beginning, it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. He would find excuses at least once a week to try and visit the library. But most of the time when he went, Will either wasn’t there (and there was a tall boy with shaggy hair in his place), or Will was very busy, with students who were checking out books for mid semester tests and projects.

And then, just a few days previously, Mike had been in the library with the intention of finding a resource for a psychology paper (with his quest for Will still in the back of his mind), and who did he find behind the desk but Mrs. Pemberton. Mike had greeted her outwardly with the same warmth and sunny disposition as ever, inquiring after her daughter’s health and all that, but internally, his stomach was heavy with disappointment, and acute anger at himself, thinking that he might have missed his opportunity with Will forever.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it would give him the chance to really, truly focus on his studies.

Mike rubbed his cold hands together, trying to get the feeling back in them. As before mentioned, El tried her hardest to make the car warm, both in courtesy of her guests and in her own self-interest, but Mike lived way closer to El than Max did, and the car was never warm by the time he was picked up. It was old and rusted around the tires and scraped underneath the bumper from many failed parking attempts, but it worked, and no one else had a car, so they all rode with her.

It sucked even a little bit more for Mike too, because even though Max wasn’t there yet, he had to sit in the back. He always sat in the back. El made it a rule long ago that if she was driving, Max had shotgun, and Mike had argued then and still argued now. Though, if Mike was being completely honest with himself, Mike didn’t mind sitting in the back all that much, because he sat in the middle and could lean up between the seats to talk to them both easily, but it was more fun to argue.

Mike and El rode in comfortable silence through the neighborhoods. There was never any rush for them in the mornings. They all liked to be at school early, even if they didn’t like to wake up early. They could get the best parking spots, closest to the main doors. And they almost always brought breakfast to share amongst themselves, so they could chat and catch up in the cafeteria, usually doing at least some last-minute homework.

Max flounced into the car gracelessly, her backpack dragging in after her, but she took the time to send a sweet smile towards El. Max was always the most tired of them all in the morning, and for a lot of people this would mean being grumpier than usual. But for Max, who was grumpy most of the time, was actually probably the nicest when she was too tired to remember to be cooler than everyone else.

But, as Mike leaned his elbows on each of their seats to engage in a discussion about the music choices of that morning (Max was insisting on classic rock, and El wanted to listen to the top ten hits of the week), he couldn’t help but think about how Max always seemed to forget to be cooler than El. From day one, she sort of idolized El, thought she was the baddest of them all. And then when they actually became friends, Max sort of became El’s… protector of sorts. It was like she knew what El was capable of doing, but wanted to keep El from ever being in a situation where she’d have to prove herself.

It was interesting, Mike thought to himself. Interesting how he’d never contemplated their dynamic very thoroughly before. Maybe it was the fact that the heat was beginning to work in the car, or maybe it was that Max mentioned offhandedly that she had brought waffles because she knew they were El’s favorite, but Mike wondered if he was the only one who had developed a crush in the recent months.

***

Ah, group projects. The bane of his existence.

It need not be stated that Mike is one of the smartest people in his class. He takes what he’s given, learns it because he wants to, and then pushes himself the extra distance. His teachers love him. But the thing is, he works best alone. He likes being able to operate on his own schedule, and he just honestly doesn’t trust anyone else in his class to put in as much effort as he does. And what’s even worse, is if the other person isn’t putting in 110%, Mike will step in and pick up the slack, so their grade doesn’t suffer. The other person ends up cruising in with an A, no effort necessary. It bugs him to no end.

So when his English teacher announces that there will be a major project to complete with an assigned partner, he groans with the rest of the class. He can already feel the extra work piling on his shoulders.

“Alright, I’m going to read out the pairs, I’d like you to meet together to discuss your topic, please send at least one of you up to the desk to collect the handout. Albert with Benjamin, Lily and Kyle…”

On and on the names went, until-

“Mike, with Dustin.”

Mike gathered up his books, hoping against all hope that this Dustin kid wasn’t just another one of the floaters who had wiggled their way into an advanced English class. He stood and scanned the room, trying to recall which one was Dustin. He thought he remembered curly hair….

“Hey!” A hand on his shoulder.

He wheeled around to face another boy, about his height, if a little shorter. Mike was right- very curly hair, all over the place. His face was familiar, childlike. He remembered them having some classes before in earlier years, but they’d never really talked much. He did notice, however, one difference- there were a couple more teeth in the wide smile facing him than he thought he remembered.

Mike smiled, a little uncomfortable, but still genuine. “Hi,” he replied. They sat down again.

Dustin looked around at the talking pairs around them, and then back at the paper in his hands. Mike guessed Dustin had gone and gotten it from the desk.

“So, do you have any ideas?” Dustin asked.

Mike pulled the paper towards him. He read the paper quickly.

“So we have to make a presentation together about one of these topics. Do you know what she means by, ‘A physical representation to illustrate the importance’?”

Dustin scoffed, “Shit, I don’t know. I guess like make a model or a poster or something. Seems a bit toddler to me.”

“Well, we’ll worry about that when we get to it. As for topics, how about…” Mike scanned the list again. This time, his eyes alighted on a word he hadn’t noticed the first time. “Oh! Can we do nihilism?”

Nihilism would be perfect. His cosmology book, that he had long since finished, had contained a good section about it, one that had been super interesting and thought provoking.

Dustin scrunched up his nose for a bit, and ultimately shrugged.

“I guess man. Isn’t that where you like having sex with dead people?”

Mike choked on his own spit.

Coughing, he stuttered out, “Dude, what?” He laughed, still coughing through it. “What the fuck, that’s necrophilia.” He chuckled a little more. “Nihilism is like, when you think that nothing is really real, so nothing you do matters.”

Dustin eyes widened a bit in understanding, nodding his head a bit, and then he was laughing too, a heartwarming, contagious kind of laughter. His laugh was the kind where you through your head back and hold your stomach, and your body shakes. He wiped some tears from his eyes, which may have been overkill, but Mike thought it was goofy enough to warrant it.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been the best at vocabulary. I’m really more of a science guy myself, I leave all of the artistic stuff to my friends. But I promise I’ll work hard if you work hard, yeah?”

Dustin held out his hand officially to shake, his face still in that same wide smile, and Mike took it.

***

Despite his first impression of Dustin as just a goofy kid, Mike soon found out that he really knew his stuff. They had arranged to meet in one of the study rooms during free period to decide how to split the work up. Dustin turned up with a list of topics that he was planning to touch upon. Mike showed up with apprehension that quickly faded away.

They agreed to split it in this way: They were each going to do a fair share of the research. Dustin would focus more on history and cultural importance, and Mike would talk about connections to astrology, and find one example in literature. Mike agreed that this left more of the research for Dustin to do, so he said that he would try and tackle the physical representation of the project. They parted, agreeing to meet at the library on Wednesday after school to do research together. The project wasn’t due for a while, but they both agreed they would rather work somewhat steadily on it over the weeks, instead of cramming to do a month’s work in one night, like they figured the rest of their class was going to do. Mike was very shocked, and very relieved to find someone who valued hard work and consistency in schoolwork as much as he did.

“Alright, can I have your phone number to keep in touch? I’ll text you a reminder before school Wednesday.” Dustin asked, hand already held out for Mike’s phone.

Mike gave it to him, secretly thinking that he was capable enough to remember something like this on his own, but he appreciated the thought. Dustin typed in his number and gave it back.

“Great! Alright, I’ve got to scoot, I promised my friend that I would study with him for the rest of this block. See you Wednesday!”

And he left in a whirl of smiles and several pats on the back.

***

From: Unknown Number

_hey mike is it okay if my friend lucas comes with us to the library_

_oh also hi this is dustin ___

____

____

_also also don’t forget that we’re going to the library today:D_

To: Dustin

_Yeah that’s fine, as long as we get some work done. ___

____

____

From: Dustin

_he won’t be a distraction don’t worry the worst he’ll do is maybe argue with me a couple of times ___

____

____

***

When Mike got to the library after school, he decided he wasn’t surprised to see that Dustin and who he assumed was Lucas were already sitting at a table, seemingly engaged in some kind of heated debate. Mike guessed Dustin wasn’t kidding about that part. Lucas looked familiar too; Mike felt like maybe they had had science together? But he wasn’t sure. Plopping himself down in the seat across from Dustin, he smiled at both of them, who stopped briefly in their argument to greet him. They then quickly took it back up. Lucas was currently speaking;

“No, but the thing is, Harry Potter totally could have been in Ravenclaw, easily! People always overlook his intelligence in favor of noticing Hermione’s, but really, he did some very smart things! Like you remember the time that-.”

“Guys,” Mike interrupted.

“But Harry was also a dumbass! Like dude, pick a letter up off of the floor instead of jumping around. And that time he procrastinated the dragon egg when his life was literally on the line, I just-.” Dustin argued back.

“Guys,” Mike said again, a little louder.

“No, see, that’s just showing how relatable Harry is! It’s just characterizing him as a normal teenager, something that the fourth and fifth books are clearly trying to illustrate with his reaction to grief and anger-.”

“GUYS.” Mike all but yelled. Someone shushed him.

The two stopped, lips pursed and still side-eyeing each other suspiciously. Mike was fondly exasperated. It was a nice conversation, one he’d be happy to partake in, literally any other time. But he was here to do work right now. He told them as much, but kindly.

Dustin sheepishly apologized and pulled his books towards him. Lucas seemingly intent on getting the last word, just nodded in recognition at what Mike had said and tore out a paper from his notebook and began furiously writing. Upside down, Mike thought it said, “Reasons why Dustin is a Nimrod and I am Right”.

“So, Mike, any idea where your starting place is going to be?” Dustin asked, absentmindedly scratching at his cheek.

“Oh yeah, let me go find this book I read last month, it was perfect.” He stood.

He made his way down the shelves, trying to retrace the steps he’d taken the day he’d found that book. Ah, what a fateful day that had been. That was the first day he had ever met Will. He made it to the bookshelf and stooped down to run his finger along the spines. He wondered if he was ever going to get the chance to see him again. He wondered if maybe it was weird that even after all this time, he still felt such a strong connection. He found his book, and decided he should probably check it out, since he would need to take it home. He picked up a few more books of the same section, just to see if there was any information in there too.

Mike was a romantic in all senses of the word. He was the modern interpretation, yes. He secretly liked mushy romance stories and thought about soulmates, and he enjoyed cuddling more than he’d like to admit. But even more than that, Mike was the original meaning of a romantic- one who does all with passion. He throws himself into everything he does. He leaves none of himself behind, and is always dreaming and wishing and fulfilling. He falls in love with strangers. He doesn’t ever think they’ll fall in love with him back, but he likes to imagine the day that he’ll meet eyes with someone and know that they’ve put all of their passion into him, too.

“Hey, do you wanna… check that out, or?” A voice from in front out him.

Mike eyes became refocused. He had wandered up to the check out desk in his musings. He really needed to stop blacking out like that, it was going to get him into trouble. He mumbled an apology, and quickly handed his book to Will Byers.

Wait.

Mike checked again, eyes wide incredulously.

“Do you work here?!” he blurted out.

Will looked up at him, a lot of confusion in his pretty, pretty brown eyes.

“Um, yes? Wait, hang on, I’m having déjà vu, haven’t you, like you specifically, asked me that before?” An expectant look.

Mike wanted to kick himself in the teeth.

“I mean, what I meant to say was, were you not just replacing Mrs. Pemberton while she was away?” Mike asked, stomach flipping strangely. God, he thought to himself, please don’t let him think it’s weird that I remember that.

Will smiled though, checking out Mike’s book as he did so. “Well, I did take more shifts because she was out, but I was being trained to work here part-time when she left anyways, so…” He handed the book back. “Here you go!”

“Oh, thanks.” Mike shifted a bit in his place. He wanted to say something to keep the conversation going. This boy, this beautiful, interesting enigma was suddenly physical again and he needed to be able to keep his attention. “So, uh-.”

“Mike!” Dustin’s hand, which had as of late become far to familiar with Mike’s shoulder, clapped it once more. “You’ve got to come see what I’ve found! Super cool.” He grinned cheesily, then looked past Mike at Will. “Working hard or hardly working, William?” He wagged his eyebrows. Mike looked quick enough to see Will childishly stick his tongue out in response before he was steered back into his seat, his mind whirling with all of the new developments.

“Wait, do you know Will?” Mike asked.

Lucas looked up from his list, which had exceeded one full sheet of paper at this point. “Yeah, Will’s our best friend.” He set his pen down and looked at Mike with a bit more scrutiny. “Do _you _know Will?”__

____

____

Mike stammered out that he’d just seen him around, and was quick to look at what Dustin was trying to show him. He was right, it was interesting. Still with buzzing, intrusive thoughts in the back of his mind, he tried to focus on his task at hand, though it was much harder now to stop himself from glancing up at the check out desk every so often. He had to do it discreetly though, as not only was Lucas watching him a little more closely than he knew the reason for, but sometimes he found that Will was already looking in his direction. Made sense though, as Mike was sitting with his two best friends.

He thumbed through his book absently, fingers catching on the corners that were still bent from his previous perusal of it. It fell open almost magically a few pages before what he was looking for. But it wasn’t magic that had caused it to happen, oh no. There was a folded paper wedged in the crevice.

Mike was sure he had taken out the note he’d received that first day he’d checked out this book. He opened it, and was somehow both very surprised and not surprised at all when it was not words he’d seen before, but seemingly from the same hand.

“I never noticed the freckles before. They’re cute:)”

Mike isn’t stupid. Once is a fluke, twice is coincidence, but three times is enough for him to connect the images with red yarn on his mental conspiracy board. There has been only one person present when he’s received these notes.

They stay there for another half hour, mainly working in silence punctuated by the occasional burst of an interesting fact, or one of them standing up to search futilely for a new book. They actually get a fair amount of work done- granted, they still have a long way to go, but the start they make on the project is nice. Dustin had found a few great resources, and Mike had a full page of important and interesting points from the cosmology book. He could tell that with their combined determination, and seemingly similar sense of humor, the presentation was going to far outshine those of their peers. There was just one thing he wanted to discuss before they disbanded.

“Dustin, I know this is my thing to work on, but have you got any ideas as to what I should do for the physical part of the project?”

Dustin stops flipping through his book and thinks, lips pursed comically. Suddenly his eyes light up with a mysterious fire.

“What about some kind of planetary model? Like not necessarily just the model, but with some kind of theme about how none of it matters? I don’t know, you could play with that somehow.”

Mike hummed in agreement. “I like that, I just don’t really know how to execute it. I’m not very artistic.”

Dustin was positively glowing. Lucas was watching him closely- he only ever saw Dustin look like that when he was planning a nefarious prank or had come up with some brilliant experiment. He could practically see those shiny gears whirring in his brain. He was always surprised that there was never smoke coming out of Dustin’s ears from his brain that never stopped churning. It was like a steamboat that just stayed in place.

“Oh no worries! I know someone who is really good at that stuff, I’ll get them to help you!” Dustin grinned. 

Mike smiled and thanked him, and started to pack up his stuff. Unlike earlier in the session when he had been throwing not-so-covert glances at Will every few minutes, his eyes were completely avoiding the front desk now, and when he bent down to put his books in his backpack, Lucas and Dustin could see that the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were bright red. He hurriedly bid them farewell, and then says:

“Hey actually there’s nothing related to nihilism in this book that I can find, it’s solely about myths and constellations. I’m going to go return it.”

Trying to not be obvious about it, they watch Mike slide the book down in front of Will. And then he’s off, practically one notch away from running out the door. A powerwalk, at least.

Once Mike was fully out of sight, Lucas turned to Dustin, eyes full of both suspicion and curiosity.

“Did you see that note that Mike found in his book?” He asked.

Dustin smirked a little to himself and side-eyed Lucas. “Yeah, I saw it.”

Lucas frowned. “Didn’t you think it looked like Will’s handwriting.”

“Oh yes, I most definitely thought it looked like Will’s handwriting.” Dustin was smiling proudly now, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“So why did you set Mike up to unknowingly work with Will? That’s who you were talking about, I know it. Don’t you think you should have asked him first?”

Dustin’s smile was wicked now. He knowingly clapped his hand onto his good friend’s shoulder and said, “Oh, young Padawan. One day you will know such things. See, I think that if our buddy Will is already writing this guy secret flirty little notes, then we’re doing him a grand old favor by making them work together. I bet you Will is going to be ecstatic when he hears.”

They finished packing up their books and papers and went to the front desk to say goodbye to Will, and make sure he was still going to the Arcade with them once he got off work. But Will didn’t even notice them when they made it up to the counter, rapping on the wood rhythmically and wearing shit-eating grins. Will was far too focused on a hastily scribbled upon piece of paper he was holding in his hands. The book that Mike had returned was lying open, off to the side.

_“I want to know you.” ___


	3. Chapter 3

A buttery, mouth-watering smell permeates the air, flowing tantalizingly out of the microwave. Mike stands in front of it impatiently, bouncing on his heels and watching the glass plate revolve with a metallic whirring sound. He can hear the girls laughing and joking from the basement, the only sounds coming up the stairs with their movie paused, waiting for him. It is Sunday night, and in a rare, momentous occasion, all three of them had finished their homework early in the day, and had decided to settle down with a good movie.

They had limited options, since it was Mike’s house, and Mike is notoriously the sci-fi nerd among them. While El and Max were certainly not opposed to science fiction movies (on the contrary, they enjoyed them very much, thank you), they got a bit old when they were your only option. So, El had brought along some of her favorite Disney movies. Tangled was currently in his DVD player, and despite the grumble he put on to save his masculinity, he was very excited. Tangled was one of his favorites. Flynn Rider was probably his favorite Disney character of them all, actually. He was sarcastic but a softie at heart- just Mike’s type. 

Mike pulled the microwave door open before the timer could hit zero, burning his fingers briefly on the bag as a few leftover kernels popped viciously within in. He nursed the injured digit in his mouth and shook the popcorn into the large bowl on his counter, already half full of another bag’s worth of exploded kernels. The three of them all may be tiny and skinny, but they were growing still, and voracious eaters. 

Mike bounded down the stairs, clutching the large bowl and several soft drinks, ready to spend the next several hours nostalgically singing along to some of his favorite childhood movies. 

Five hours later, it is midnight, and the three of them are tangled amongst each other and laughing hysterically at the smallest things. Suddenly that twitch Mike can do with his mouth if he thinks about it is the funniest thing on the face of the Earth, and everything is funnier when your friends are laughing, so Mike laughs too. It’s comfortable, it’s light, and it’s easy. Mike has missed the days when they had no other obligations, and they could just do whatever they wanted for hours on end. When nothing going on in the world was more important than their arms flung around each other, and their faces flushed from laughter. 

“You know what I can’t believe?” Max says loudly, voice still a little breathless from laughing her lungs out. She struggles up into a sitting position. She was laying on top of El’s legs, and Mike’s head is on her lap, so when she sits up all three of them grumble. El props her knees up, and Max uses it as a backrest. She continues, her voice a little softer now, a little sincerer. 

“I can’t believe that our main man Mike is still single after all these years! He’s such a cutie, but alas, all alone.” She exclaims, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks. Mike scrunches up his face and pushes her hands away, grappling with her for a minute before giving in and letting himself be mussed. 

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in Mayfield. Forever alone, high school virgin, never even kissed anyone, blah blah blah. All true, but don’t say it like you’re any different.” He sticks his tongue out at her, and screeches when she tries unsuccessfully to push him off the couch. 

“What if I told you…” She trails off suspiciously. Mike tilts his head back and looks at her closely. She’s blushing, and she won’t meet his eyes. There’s a shiftiness about her that Mike doesn’t trust very much. Eleven is staring at her too, her face oddly stony all of a sudden. It looks like the blood had drained from her face. 

“What if I told you I kissed someone?”

Mike yells, and pounces on her immediately, demanding details, but he can feel even as he does so that Eleven’s posture has gotten stiffer. She doesn’t have that same relaxed, comfortable stance that she’d had only minutes previously. And it seems Max has felt it too, because she was shifting uncomfortably, and dodging all of his questions. 

“At least tell us who, Max!” He pushed, putting his chin in his hands for emphasis. 

“I don’t kiss and tell, Wheeler.” She winked. “But it was… sort of nice, I guess.”

Mike noticed again how she didn’t really meet his eyes when she said this. Mike noticed how Eleven didn’t say anything, just gave Max a seemingly congratulatory pat on the back. Mike noticed how her fingers lingered on Max’s shoulder. 

Mike, it seems, is always noticing things. He wishes, just this time, that his two best friends would pull their heads out of their asses and start seeing what he was seeing, too. 

A phone starts ringing, breaking up the odd tension that had built suddenly. Max extracts herself from the couch to answer the call. It’s from her dad. Her fists clench automatically, the way they always do when she talks to or about her father. Mike and Eleven, still sprawled out on the couch, can hear the yelling coming from the speaker, even though Max has walked to the other side of the room. They try to make it seem like they aren’t listening, but how can you really pretend that when there’s nowhere to hide from it? So, they don’t act surprised when Max tells them, with suppressed anger still flavoring her voice, that she can’t actually stay the night, and her father wants her home. Mike wants to protest, wants to tell her to stay here anyway, and fuck whatever her dad has to say about it, but he knows. He knows how bad her dad can get, and he knows Max was afraid of him. Mike and Eleven are afraid of him too- afraid of what he can do to Max if he is pushed too far. So instead, he walks Max to the door, and pretends he doesn’t notice when Eleven takes Max’s hands and squeezes them reassuringly. Noticing, noticing, noticing. 

“So…” Mike says, closing the door when Max and her bike are out sight. “Basement, yeah?”

Eleven nods, and they make their way downstairs. Their parents had stopped caring about them spending the nights on school nights when they realized that if they didn’t get to every once in a while, they would just stay up texting anyway. It was also sometimes more convenient for El to stay at the Wheelers, since she was the one who took them to school anyway, and sometimes Chief Hopper had very late nights or early mornings. Most of the time, Max got to stay too. Some nights, like this one, she was called away, and she left ever-present layer of worry on her place, worry that wouldn’t go away until the next time they saw their best friend in person. Even texts can be deceptive sometimes. 

Mike desperately wanted to bring up the chemistry he’d been seeing between his best friends, but he really didn’t know how to go about it. It was true, what Max had said earlier- he really had no romantic experience. None of them had. Well, except for that fluke of a relationship he and El had had in like, sixth grade. But that was nothing more than El being confused about the difference between romantic and platonic love, and Mike had been the unfortunate target. It all ended fine either way, and allowed for their friendship to blossom into the platonic closeness that they had now. 

Mike just didn’t know how to bring up that it seemed like El had finally figured out what romantic love really was. 

El didn’t have the same problem. 

“I like Max.” She said. And that was that. Straight and to the point. Well, maybe not straight. 

Mike just nodded. “I can tell.” 

“And I don’t like that she kissed someone else.” She continued, eyes wandering past him to the place where Max had been sitting. She worried at her lip. 

Mike paused and considered his words. “Well if it helps at all, I don’t think she really liked that she kissed someone else either.” He gave her a pointed stare.

She returned it. “She was blushing. And she said it was nice.”

“She said it “sort of” nice, she “guesses”.” Mike countered, using air quotes.

Eleven huffed and turned slightly away from him, hugging her arms around her stomach. Her fingers were twisting into the fabric of the sweater she was wearing. Distantly, Mike recognized that the sweater belonged to Max. 

“I’ve never liked someone like this, Mike.” She whispered softly. It stung him, the way her voice broke a little on his name. “It’s never hurt to like someone either.” And if that didn’t just break Mike’s heart a little bit more. He scooted closer to her and wrapped her in a comforting hug, pulling her into his chest. They stayed that way for a while, not speaking, with Mike just rubbing his hand up and down her arm to pacify her. Sometimes there weren’t words that needed to be said to comfort someone.

Later that night, long after El had fallen into a fitful sleep on the couch and Mike had slid down to his sleeping bag on the floor, he was awoken by his phone screen lighting up. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he hurriedly turned his brightness down and let his pupils adjust so he could read the text on his screen. 

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_mike i can’t stop thinking about it and the guilt is eating me alive_

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_What are you talking about, max? Is something wrong?_

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_i lied earlier_  
_i was lying_  
_friends dont lie and i was selfish and i didnt kiss anyone_  
_i almost did. kiss someone, that is. but i kept seeing el. and i couldnt_

Mike sat up in his sleeping bag. He shot a glance at El, still sleeping peacefully, and he tiptoed across the room into the bathroom, just so that the light from his phone didn’t accidentally wake her up. 

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_What?!?!! You better not be fucking with me right now._  
_Why did you do say you did?_

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_i think_

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_?????????_

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_i think i was trying to make el jealous ?_

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Petition to rename our group chat “dumb gay nerds”_

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_that’s bisexual erasure_

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_I know Max, I’m the bisexual._  
_I’m settling for this gm name because you two are both idiots._

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_what do you mean???_

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Oh my god._  
_Just try to have one conversation together about it. I swear you’ll be able to see what I’ve been seeing for months._

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_which is??_  
_hello??_  
_MIKE I’M STILL IN MY BIG GAY CRISIS DON’T YOU SLEEP ON ME_

Mike trudged back to his nest on the floor, his phone securely on Do Not Disturb mode now. Head squashed on the pillow, his eyes sought El’s form, where she was still stubbornly holding onto Max’s sweater. He sighed. Maybe the only thing worse than noticing things is knowing things. 

He hoped these two would figure it out soon. 

***

When Mike meets Dustin in the library after school on Monday, it is sheepishly, and empty-handed. They’re going to have to present their project the next Monday, and Mike still didn’t know what he was going to do for the physical construction. He figured they could always just make a poster or something- it was probably what the rest of his classmates were going to do- but Mike didn’t want to be just like all of his classmates. He wanted their project to be spectacular. The one that their teacher would use as an example for years to come. 

But he had no clue where to start, and he told as much to Dustin as he sat down. 

“I’ve got a couple ideas, but I don’t have anything that like, screams the perfect one, you know? And I wouldn’t know how to make any of them work either.” Mike finished. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. 

“Here, hold on for a second.” Dustin dug around in his bag.

Mike took this opportunity to sneak the glance to the librarian desk that he’d been denying himself since he walked in. He felt stupid for it when he looked up and saw only that other, older guy he’d seen in here a few weeks previously. Although, now that he thought about it, this other guy did seem a little familiar. Maybe he used to hang out with Nancy? If so, he was probably in college too. Maybe home for winter break the way that Nancy was right now. Either way, it didn’t matter. No Will. 

“Found it!” Dustin slapped a magazine down on the table. It looked like a very old edition of _National Geographic_. On the open pages was a picture of a model of the solar system. The passage underneath described how it moved with several gears and an oscillating magnet. 

“My friend showed me this. I told him about our project and he immediately rambled off a detailed explanation about how to make this, but better, and even more pertinent to out project.”

Mike, wide-eyed, smiled. “That’s great! Do you think he could meet us this week, so I could hear it?”

Dustin smirked. “Hey, that sounds like a great idea! How about tomorrow, he doesn’t work on Tuesdays.”

“Sure.” Normally Mike might have felt bad about not being able to come up with an idea on his own, but for now, Mike was just relieved to have an actual plan. He hated not knowing what to do for projects like these, major projects. And he hated even more when he did have ideas, but didn’t know how to do them. 

“You know, he was so passionate about it, I bet he’d actually be more than happy to help you with it. I’ll ask him.” There was something hidden in Dustin’s tone, but Mike didn’t know what it was. 

“Uh, yeah, wow, that’d be great actually.” He smiled. 

Dustin jumped up. “Sweet! I’ve actually got to get going then.”

Mike frowned, checking his watch. “We’ve only been here for like 10 minutes though?”

“I’ve already finished all my research, and I told my mom I would watch our cat today. Sorry to bail on you like this, I should’ve told you earlier.”

Mike assured him that it was fine and waved him on his way. He sent El a quick text asking if she was still at school, and if she could give him a ride home. One she sent back an affirmative, he went outside to wait for her, only to stop short when he saw who was outside. 

It wasn’t Dustin, or El. It wasn’t even Will. 

It was Max, and Dustin’s friend, Lucas. And it looked like Lucas was hugging her. 

Mike didn’t want to interrupt, but he was burning with curiosity, so he sidled on up to them and cleared his throat, his words dying when he saw Max’s face. She was crying. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He reached past Lucas to cup Max’s face in his hands as she furiously wiped the tears out of her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” And despite the obvious tears on her face, she actually looked quite happy and confident. Mike spared a questioning look at Lucas, who shrugged as if to say, _you gotta do what ya gotta do._

Max braved a watery smile and gripped Lucas’s hands firmly. “Thank you,” she said, so sincerely that it made Mike feel, once again, like he was intruding. “Thank you for everything.”

Lucas smiled charmingly. “You know it’s my pleasure, Madmax. If you ever need to talk again, you know I’m here, okay?” And to Mike’s continued confusion, Max nodded, and squeezed his hands again. 

Lucas pulled away and turned, clasping Mike’s shoulder, a gesture he figured Lucas had picked up from Dustin. Or the other way around. He smiled, saying, “You take this from here, Mike. See you around.” And he walked away. 

Mike watched him walk away, still hugging Max, and once he was sure Lucas was out of earshot, he turned to Max. 

“What was that?” 

She sniffled, and took a deep breath, sitting back down on the metal bench. She took a few moments more to collect herself, and when she spoke, her voice never wavered. 

“Lucas… Lucas and I have become closer friends recently. We have a few classes together, and we’re always at the arcade at the same time…. I guess I was trying to… hide my feelings, my real feelings, and Lucas was kind of dragged along. I almost kissed him.” Here she paused. She started again, “But when I tried to, I just said, ‘I think I’m gay’ and I ran out. He was… so kind to me about it. Said one of his best friends was gay and he understood and was sorry for pressuring me or anything. Just now he was trying to convince me that it was all okay.” She wiped away a few tears. 

“And before you say anything Wheeler, I KNOW it’s okay. I’ve never had any problem with that, it’s not like, a morality issue or anything. I was just suppressing it, because of my dad, I guess. I was worried about how he would… react. I’m still worried….” She looked off, squinting her eyes, before she grounded herself again. “But Lucas’ friend had a homophobic dad too, and everything has worked out fine for him. I guess it was just nice to hear a success story, you know? And anyway, I feel better now.” She smiled, and it was like the sun coming out after a rainstorm. Mike couldn’t be quick enough to hug her again, and couldn’t do it long enough to feel like it was sufficient. 

Eventually they were shocked apart by an incessant beeping. They looked up to find El in her run-down car, waving them in. 

Mike squeezed Max’s hand, like she had done to Lucas. “I’m glad he was here for you. And you know I’m here for you too, yeah?”

Max made a face and laughed, saying, “You say you’re here for me and then you ghost me at 2 am when I’m in a Gay Crisis, yeah sure.”

“I ghosted you because you’re both completely blind!”

Grumbling, they finally climb into El’s car, where she’s sitting with her eyes forward. She greets them both like she normally does, but there’s a sadness in it that Mike wasn’t expecting. And he’s guessing Max wasn’t expecting it either, because she tries extra hard to engage El and earn her attention, and the more she does, the sadder El seems to get. 

They drop Max off at home. She sends one last, long, wistful, confused glance at El, who doesn’t return it. Max turns to Mike as if to ask what’s going on, but Mike is just as confused. As soon as Max is inside, Mike does something he hasn’t done in months. 

He sits up front. 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asks her. He puts his hand on the gear shift, so she can’t avoid his stare with the excuse of driving. “Is it still the stuff from last night? Because I assure you, if you all would just talk about it-”

“I came by to pick you up from the library almost immediately,” she interrupted, studying her hands on the steering wheel far too closely. “Max was hugging that Lucas kid. I think he’s the one she kissed.” She bit her lip, eyelids lowering further. “They were laughing together in the lunch-line earlier, didn’t you see them?”

Mike hadn’t, but he didn’t doubt her. El was more observant always, but he knew she paid more attention to Max than anyone else did. 

“Look, El-,”

“No.” She said. She put her hand on his and shifted the car into Drive. “No more being sad.”

“El, if you would just talk to her, neither of you all will be sad.”

“No. If Max is… happy, then I am happy too.” She gave herself away with a telltale sniff. El was never as apart from her emotions as people liked to believe. She gave off this collected, otherworldly vibe, but just past surface level, she was the most sensitive, kind-hearted person Mike had ever seen. 

Mike let himself be driven home, all the while swirling with the complicated events, wondering how to make it all work, and wondering when his life became so confusing. 

***

When Mike let the library door shut behind him the following afternoon, it was with a sigh of relief. His day had been filled with strained conversations and sitting between two oblivious idiots who only ever seemed to gaze at each other sadly when the other wasn’t looking. He cursed whatever stupid god was messing with his friends lives, because he didn’t know anyone who deserved more to be happy together than Max and El. Instead he was being pulled between them, their confidant and therapist, and Mike thought that if they didn’t work it out soon, his arms would grow an extra three feet with how much he was being stretched between them. 

He adjusted his backpack’s strap that was cutting into his shoulder and shot a cursory glance around the tables. He didn’t see Dustin’s curly mop at any of them. It looked like someone was at their usual table too. He wasn’t worried though, because maybe Dustin was just late?

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to several new messages.

From: zoomerrr<3  
_do you think she’s mad at me??_

From: raise some El  
_It just hurts, Mike :-(_

And finally, one from the man of the hour:

From: Dustin  
_hey look im so sorry but i went home sick today so i wont be able to make it to the library. my friend should still be able to meet you though_

To: Dustin  
_Who’s your friend?_

From: Dustin  
_i told him to sit at our normal table_

Mike shot another look at the table he and Dustin had been doing their research at. The kid who was sitting there, whoever it was, had his head lowered. It looked like he was really concentrating on whatever he was doing. Writing? Maybe?

Another text came in from Dustin. 

From: Dustin  
_i thought you knew him, anyways. will byers?_

And holy shit. Did Mike recognize those shoulders now. The practiced swoop of the hair on the back of his head. The ratty backpack by his feet, covered in buttons and pins and ribbons, the backpack he looks for everyday when he’s walking though the halls. 

He sits down across from Will before he can talk himself out of it. 

It takes Will a second to notice that Mike has settled into the seat across from him. He seems really focused on the paper in front of him- a paper that Mike can now see was full, but not with words, like he had expected. He was drawing something, full of abstract swirls and tiny lines and details. When he finally does raise his head to meet Mike’s eyes, it is like physically seeing his focus shift, so that he can zero in on something not coming straight form his head. But Mike won’t forget that dreamlike, concentrated glaze for a long time. 

Will smiles, and closes his notebook somewhat subconsciously. He purses his lips and looks at the table, before looking up at Mike again. 

“So… I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced to one another, not really. I’m Will Byers.” He sticks his hand out between them. 

Mike takes it, hoping his own hands aren’t as sweaty as they feel. “Mike. Wheeler.”

“Yeah.” 

There is an awkward pause. 

Externally, Mike feels like he might actually be pulling off the calm, collected façade that he is trying so hard to maintain. But internally, he’s screaming. It’s a mixture of indiscernible screeches and a mantra bouncing around his skull, of _"it's you, it's you, you left me the notes, I know it's you”_. And Mike is no mind reader, but if he has to guess by the look of slight panic in those warm brown eyes staring back at him, he thinks that Will might be remembering the note that Mike had left him, and he might have his own mantra, saying _"shit shit shit shit shit he knows and now he's sitting in front of me and I have to help him with this stupid project"._

Will licks his lips and clears his throat. “Um, your project?”

Mike straightens his back and gets his mind out of the gutter. He has work to do. School- the only thing that can distract him from a cute boy. Most teachers and dress code activists would argue that it was supposed to be, or tended to be the other way around. Mike never claimed to follow the crowd. 

“Dustin said you had some ideas for the physical representation of nihilism. Something about a solar system model, but better?”

Will nods and started to open his notebook again, leafing through it. Mike tries not to obviously stare at the pages he was catching quick glimpses of. Max had been right- he really was a spectacular artist. 

“Here.” He turns the notebook, so that it’s facing Mike. 

Mike can’t help but tug it closer. It’s beautifully rendered. There was the model of the solar system, yes, but Will had somehow perfectly managed to capture the effect of it being surrounded by what Mike could only guess was some kind of tinted plastic wrap. Perched on the very top was an inconceivably small human figure. 

“This is beautiful, Will!” Mike can’t stop the words from tumbling out. 

Will smiles a little shyly, seemingly a little uncomfortable with the praise. “The idea isn’t all that different, or difficult even, really. It’s just a normal solar system model surrounded by black plastic wrap. My brother, he’s studying photography at NYU, he used the wrap for a project once so I have some if you need it. Um-.”

“Do you think you could help me?”

Will looks up to meet Mike’s earnest eyes. 

“I don’t want to like, make you do extra work for a project that isn’t even yours, it’s just, I’m not artistically inclined at all, and-and you’re so talented I mean just look at the drawing you did for it, it would really mean a lot to me if you could help but I understand if you’re too busy or something-.” Mike knows he’s rambling, but he can’t seem to be able to make himself stop it. Will cuts him off. 

“Mike,” Mike’s breath catches in his chest. “I’d be happy to help. Just let me know what you need. You could come by my house this weekend to work on it if you’d like.”

“Oh, um, yes, that’d be great.” Mike stammers out. 

“Here, I’ll give you my number just in case anything changes.” The words hang ambiguously in the air as Will jots it down on the corner of a paper and tears it off, folding it. Mike takes if with a dangerous sense of déjà vu. He opens it, because even if he feels like he knows, he has to be sure. And, yes, there that same handwriting is, down to the crooked smiley face written at the end of the number. 

Neither of them bring up the moments where they have exchanged notes before. In fact, so much time passes that it feels entirely too late to bring it up at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter centers much more on el and max, but i just love those girls so much that i dont regret it for a second. and supportive lucas!! let him be soft  
> i think there will be at least one more chapter so i'm tentatively setting the limit at four. tune in next time to hopefully see some legitimate interaction between will and mike and maybe even see dustin meddle some more, that tricky boi


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this took me like a millenium to complete, it was a combination of busyness and lack of inspiration, but im FINALLY BACK and i hope you like the final chapter!!

The weekend comes far quicker than Mike is expecting it to. He figures the mixture of anticipation and anxiety about his meeting with Will does nothing to slow the passage of time. It continues whirling past him, spinning and pushing him, until he finds himself disoriented on Saturday morning with only a myriad of hours to stand between him and his fateful English project. 

Things aren’t much better on El and Max’s fronts either. Mike assumes something big must have passed between them that he wasn’t privy to, because something has changed within the span of the last day. Instead of wistful glances and phrases laced with something a little more than significant, he’s been witness to short exchanges and ice. He’s almost afraid to ask, and apparently both of them have decided to deal with it on their own. Mike’s sanity is grateful, but his logic is quaking. He knows that both are either too stubborn or too afraid to truly speak their minds. It would be oh so much simpler if they just would. 

The old grandfather clock in Mike’s living room strikes 11 am. His family has gone to brunch, dragging Nancy along for family bonding while she’s in town, but Mike begged off on a stomach ache. He hopes he can be a convincing enough actor to not let his malingering detain him from seeing Will, but the anxiety swirling in his stomach is enough to make him think that maybe staying at home would be better after all. He rolls onto his side on their old, squashy couch, picking absentmindedly at the embroidery. The sun is shining harshly through the slats in the curtains opposite the room, but Mike doesn’t trust it. The temperature had dropped dramatically the night before, and their weather girl was calling for snow. 

He turns back to lay facing the ceiling, studying it just to do something with his eyes. If there were tiles, he probably would’ve counted them all by now, but it was just that odd textured painting style that would pop a balloon if it was unfortunate enough to leave your hand. Mike groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes to hard that spots of color danced in his vision. 

He was incredibly anxious about spending time with Will. If he thought about it logically, his infatuation with the boy was founded greatly in his own persistent idealism. If Mike was too awkward, or they didn’t click right, his whole world he’d built in his head would fall to ruin. And then again, what if they hit it off? He had never done something like this before. He had no idea how to approach someone with affection. It wasn’t like his parents had sat him down with this information the way they had with the birds and the bees. He would have much rather had a lesson on how to get to that point, thank you very much. 

It was that persistent ticking of the clock that made him retire back to his room. He couldn’t stand the reminder that time was moving. Either too slow or too fast, it was torturous. He was due to bike to Will’s house at 3, and he had no idea what to do to occupy himself before then. He could always do homework, but it was a Saturday, and try as he might to be a diligent student all day every day, he just couldn’t dedicate his whole day to school work. His two only friends weren’t talking to each other, so he couldn’t even hang out with them. He touches his hand to his window and recoils. Too cold still to go for a walk in the woods. He slumps back against his pillows, scanning his room for something to hold his attention, and jumps up when a brilliant idea strikes him. 

He flips through his planner, digs in his jacket pockets, and through his backpack, and comes up with all of the strips of paper that Will had given him during the year.  
He lays them out on his bed, like a mosaic of affection, and sits looking at them contentedly. It was only a few notes, but they meant the world to him. As before mentioned, Mike had never really had much experience seriously being in reciprocal interest. He’d had other crushes, sure, boys and girls. He’d had that brief weird thing with El. He used to text with this one girl in like, sophomore year, but it fizzled out and she found someone else. 

It wasn’t that Mike didn’t believe that he was capable of being in a relationship. On the contrary, he craved it, and had probably overthought the whole thing so much that reality would be way simpler. He was just afraid of messing up, in general, but this time especially. There was just something…

There was just something special about Will. 

***

His cycling to Will’s house is hurried, when the time comes. He doesn’t have the frame of mind to be worried or anxious anymore- his instincts, probably the evolutionary residue of his monkey brain, are yelling at him, saying get the fuck indoors, you’re freezing your toes off!!!!! And well, Mike can’t really argue with that logic. The temperature has dropped impossibly further, and the atmosphere is soaking in, sending soft and heavy flakes of snow to catch in the last glimmers of light that seep through the clouds. If the clouds today were nonexistent, the sun would still be fairly high in the sky, but would start to sink in only an hour or two. Mike hates how quickly the days get dark in the winter. It makes it feel all too short. Why bother doing anything at all?

His lungs protest as he stands to bike faster. Clouds and swirls of heat swim in his sight as his breath rebels against him, working in tandem with the snow on his eyelashes to obscure his vision. He sure hopes he’s going the right way. He has to swerve his bike suddenly to avoid a patch on the sidewalk that is already getting to be icy. 

When Mike had put Will’s address into his phone, it hadn’t been that far from his own house, but still was in a place that he had never really seen before. It appeared to be on a long stretch of road without any particularly close neighbors, and right on an opposite edge of the woods that he and Nancy used to traipse around in when they were growing up. Mike wants to check again that he’s on the right path, but when he taps on his screen to let him in, the phone won’t recognize it. His fingers are too cold. 

Finally, Mike’s tires are kicking up gravel, and there can be no other winding road and single house by the woods like this if it were not Will’s, so he throws his bike (gently) against the porch, resting the tire in an accumulating snowbank. It isn’t until he’s already stomped up the front steps and knocked on the door that he remembers he’s supposed to be nervous. 

Fuck. 

 

***

“Wait here,” Will says, “I’m just going to go grab some of the supplies we’re going to need.”

Mike nods, and spares a timid smile. And then he curses himself, because who the fuck was he. He was blushing and shy like a 12 year old around their first Big Crush. He was a big boy. He was confident in his sexuality. He had himself arguably well figured out, though to be fair there would always be things that Mike would be unsure about. Ghosts, for one. But, not the point here. 

The point was that Mike was now sitting alone in the bedroom of the boy he liked, listening to him rustle through drawers distantly. He was still shivering a little bit, the outside air clinging to him, so he hugged his arms and took the opportunity to take in the room he was seated in. School pens and pencils were mixed in a mug with fancy looking markers and a few paint brushes on the desk. Some kind of drawing board was shoved haphazardly in the space between his dresser and his wall, the splotches of paint giving away its evident use. An unmade bed with navy covers. A computer, still open to a Spotify playlist that Mike leans in to read and sees is called “feelin stupid”. Some posters of paintings he doesn’t know and bands he doesn’t listen to. A curious flipbook on the wall, covered in tallies, like a calendar with no numbers. Mike gets up to see it, but stumbles in surprise when his eye catches on Will’s desk again. He sees his own handwriting, his own note given, carefully placed under the lamp. Inconspicuous enough to seem casual, but angled enough to look purposeful. Mike feels flushed, but he doesn’t think it’s from the cold anymore. 

“Alright, I think I’ve got everything on my end. Also my mom made us hot chocolate, which I’m gonna grab in a second. Did you pick up those Styrofoam things I told you about?” Will comes waddling back into the room, arms full with a bag apparently laden with paint and glue and wire, and with a large roll of black cellophane in the crook of his elbow.  
Mike jumps, but not really away from anything because he was just kind of standing in the middle of the room. Just sort of, jumps in place. He nods though, and unzips his backpack to show Will the variety of Styrofoam balls held within. He also had a couple wooden skewers- Will said they would be helpful. Wills nods at it and drops his armful to retreat, returning seconds later with steaming mugs of hot cocoa. Mike takes his graciously with his chilled fingers, flush deepening when his own digits brush Will’s warm, soft ones. Then they get down to work. 

“Alright, so first thing we’ve got to do is make the planets, obviously.” Will plops down into a perfect cross-legged position, pulling paints and brushes and model clay onto the floor in the middle of the room. Mike sits across from him in a similar position.

“Okay, so we should probably set the planets out in a specific order. Size? No, proximity to the sun is probably best.” Will says these words aloud, but they almost seem more like thoughts than anything directed at Mike. “But I want to get the sizing accurate too…”

Mike breaks in. “What if we do smallest to biggest first, label them, and then put them in proximity order?”

Will nods at him like the little girl in that one AT&T commercial whose whole world view imploded at the thought of having a puppy brother. 

They line the planets up, and label them, starting at the biggest (Jupiter, obviously), and then going to the smallest. Not all of them were perfect matches to the proportion of the planets, but hey, Mike did the best he could. It’s when they reach the end of the lineup that they hit a problem. 

Will stops midsentence and looks up from his labeling, calculated mistrust in his eyes. 

“What?” Mike is confused. What did he do?

Will leans back, eyes squinting a little harder together. 

“There’s only 8 spheres here…”

Mike catches on to the problem quickly and steels his own expression. Crush or not, he will not back down from this argument. 

“Well, seeing as there are only eight planets in the solar system, I don’t see what the problem is.” Mike answers. 

Will lets out a betrayed shout, and dramatically scoots away from him. Mike feels a smile tugging at his mouth but he keeps his cool. Nothing can disguise the humor in either of their eyes. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been tricked into working with a non-believer.” Will mutters, shaking his head.

“Me? You’re saying I’m the non-believer? I’m the one actually believing in the scientific qualifications for a planet, which Pluto does not fit!”

“I don’t mean a non-believer in science! I mean a non-believer in Pluto!”

They bicker back and forth, poking fun and eventually breaking down into giggles about it all. It’s… nice. Easy. Fun. Mike can feel himself relax into the side of the bed. 

They end up dividing the work of decorating the planets. They’ll cover each (now labeled) Styrofoam ball with a thin layer of model magic clay that Will claims he has had for ages and never gets to use (he’s more into creating 2-dimensional art, thank you). Then they’ll paint them. Mike gets all the planets with minimal color schemes. Will tries very hard to make it seem like Mike is doing an equal share of the work, but he knows and is loudly grateful that Will can do the more complicated and pretty swirls of the planets. 

“Well, whatever. You can just get started on Uranus, that’ll probably be the easiest.” Will says, rolling some of the clay into a pancake on the floor. 

Mike can’t help it- he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Will looks, purses his lips, and pushes at Mike’s shoulder, but he laughs anyway. 

“Stoooop, that’s so dumb, we’re not 12 anymore.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to! I can read minds, anyways.”

“Oh yeah? What am I thinking of, then?”

“Uranus, probably.”

“Hell yeah.”

***

It’s a longer process than Mike was expecting. The biggest reason for this is that they’re painting spheres, and if they set it down with wet paint on all curves, it’ll just stick to the paper towel Will has laid out, and no one wants that. They have to work in sections, painting the top 3/4s, letting it dry, and then finishing it. 

Will’s planets are beautiful, obviously. Mike spends an equal amount of time working on his one simple monochrome pieces and ogling at whatever masterpiece Will has balanced delicately in his hand. He feels blessed to get a better, up close look at that hyper focused glaze he goes into when he’s concentrated. His eyebrows drop lower, and his eyes are glinting, and Mike can tell by the working of his mouth that he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

He falls into these periods of intense focus every once in a while, silent and working, but the lack of conversation somehow isn’t disconcerting to Mike. Maybe it’s because of the low music playing from the bed (not the “feelin stupid” playlist- a different one, that had a lot of 80s rock music). Maybe it’s the fact that sometimes he comes out of it and shares a random tidbit that gets the both of them bantering again (maybe it’s the fact that Will laughs at his jokes). Or maybe it’s just the knowledge that Will isn’t ignoring him, or doesn’t want to say anything. He’s just doing what he’s passionate about, and Mike can see that he puts his all into making it right. It’s adorable. It’s a little breathtaking, to see someone so driven. 

Mike only realizes he’s been there for two and a half hours when Will’s mom knocks on the door to see what they wanted for dinner. 

“I don’t care mom, I’ll eat whatever.” Will answers, looking over his shoulder to give her a smile. He turns back to Mike, a barely noticeable amount of guardedness in his eyes. “Are you staying for dinner, Mike?”

Mike bites his lip. He looks at the scattered planets all around the ground, not even assembled yet. He thinks about how his mom wanted to have a family dinner. He looks up and sees Will, and notices that with the guardedness, there’s hope, too. 

“I’d love to stay, Mrs. Byers, if that’s alright.”

Mrs. Byers smiles at him warmly. Mike likes how her eyes crinkle in the corners. “Of course it’s alright dear. I think I’ll just make some spaghetti and a frozen pizza, if that’s okay with you boys.”

Will sends her a “Sounds good,” and Mike nods. She closes the door behind her, saying it’ll be ready in about half an hour. 

Mike goes to text his mother to tell her he won’t be coming home, worried about her reaction, and is surprised to see that he has several messages. One of these is from his mom, sent shortly after he had arrived at Will’s, so he looks at it first. 

From: Mom  
Michael, if you are still at your school friend’s house, you should stay there until your father or I can pick you up in the car. It is far too cold for you to be biking in this weather.  
Mike sighs in relief, and sends her a quick response, explaining the situation. 

He checks his other messages. 

From: Dustin  
_Hey man, do you think this will be a good example to give?_  
[image of an article screenshot]

From: raise some El  
_I yelled at Max and she yelled at me and now we aren’t talking. Mike, I don’t know what to do._

From: zoomerrrr<3  
_i fucked up mike i fucked up bad_

Mike sends a confirmation to Dustin and a string of question marks to each of his best friends. None of them respond. Will is checking his phone too. Mike tries to paint a planet again. 

In the time leading up to dinner, they finish painting half of the planets, the other half sitting to the side to dry. Will and Mike have shifted to be lying on their stomachs, constructing the base of the model with popsicles sticks and Elmer’s glue. Mike doesn’t feel much like a senior in high school in this moment- it contains the same fundamental joys that come with childhood, of building just to build and having sticky fingers just for fun. Their shoulders graze each other’s. 

Will is asking Mike about the actual presentation.

“So did everyone have to a project on a philosophy as depressing as this one?

“I actually don’t know,” Mike pauses, thinking back to the list from the beginning. He had only skimmed it, really. “This was the only topic I really looked at- I didn’t want to do any other. Nothing really seems as important as nothing.”

Will laughs. “You’re as depressing as your topic.”

They’re quiet for a bit, holding their breath as they set the central support. It stays, and they exhale. They are so close, side by side, that Mike can feel the muscles shifting in Will’s arm. 

“It’s not really that depressing in the grand scheme of things.” Mike responds.

“Really? The idea that life is meaningless and so is everything we do, that doesn’t seem disheartening to you?” Will is chuckling.

“But that’s the thing that’s so interesting about it, isn’t it? The reminder that whatever we do in a day doesn’t really matter in the long scheme of things. “

“I still think that sounds a little sad, actually.” Will answers. He’s unsticking some glue from his fingers, but his gaze never leaves Mike. 

“Okay, now before doing this project I would have agreed with you. Everyone wants to feel like what we’re doing makes a difference, because in the end, isn’t that part of our ultimate goal? We want to leave a legacy. We want to be remembered, whether it was for our good deeds, our humility, our change in the system, or what have you. Being told that your spot on this earth doesn’t leave a mark is incredibly disheartening. But the idea of nihilism doesn’t necessarily have to make you any less determined about your purpose in life. I kind of… I kind of see it as more motivating, really. Nothing is going to matter, anyway, so what’s stopping me from putting it all on the line. From being spontaneous, from being myself. And if I fail, and I come crashing down, flames blazing, well. That doesn’t really matter in the long run either, does it?” 

Mike is a little wanting for breath at the end of this spiel, but he thinks it’s worth it when he sees how Will’s eyes are shining. 

He’s quiet for a moment, tilting his head a little to the side. Some of his hair falls into his eyes. 

“I like that interpretation a lot, I think.”

Mike smiles. 

***

Dinner is warm and comforting. It isn’t like family dinners are at his house at all, where the chill clink of silverware normally fills the empty chair Nancy leaves for most of the year. Mike’s family spends half of the time at dinner trying to get Holly to eat something other than bread, and the other half not speaking at all. It’s the principle of the thing, his mom always says. It’s the fact that they eat together, not the fact that none of them enjoy it. 

But eating with the Byers is casual in a way that didn’t seem sloppy either. Piping hot pizza and steaming spaghetti, cans of soda and paper napkins, legs pulled up close with knees pressing the table. Laughter. Mike can’t remember the last time he laughed at a dinner with adults. 

He finds that he loves Mrs. Wheeler. Her hair is starting to gray, but she offsets it with big smiles and winks as she slides another piece of pizza onto each of their plates. She’s spunky and smart, and very obviously cares about Will a lot, which is something he finds he can relate to. Mike wonders if there’s just something in Will’s billowy frame and careful, sweet face that makes everyone who meets him want to take care of him. Mike knows Will is capable- even in their short time of knowing each other he’s been creative, and resourceful, and a calculation in his eyes that only comes with someone who knows how to handle a difficult situation. A thought occurs to Mike, and he’s too comfortable to remember to be tactful. 

“Wait,” Mike interrupts, “How long have you lived here, Will?”

Will chokes a little on spaghetti, and swallows before answering. He won’t quite meet Mike’s eyes. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Mike looks at him in confusion, and Will rushes to clarify. 

“It’s just, we lived here for a while, and then. We moved. And then we came back. So even I’m a little unsure as to how much time I’ve lived in this house.” He catches his mom’s eye at this, and Mike looks at her too. Her face is protective again. Pinched and full of tension. Forehead lines Mike hadn’t noticed before. 

“We moved back into this house when Will was coming into sophomore year.” Came the clear, quiet response. For some reason this innocuous statement seemed to carry a heavier weight. 

Mrs. Byers and Will looked like they were having a silent conversation. Mike had enough tact to change the subject in order to avoid any more awkwardness. But that didn’t stop him from wondering. 

If Will had been living here since sophomore year, why had Mike only started to see him this year?

Will stands to scrape his plate, and the screech of his chair on the tile diffuses any more tension. 

“Well,” he starts, “We’d best keep working on this project right now, unless you want to come back tomorrow to finish it?”

Mrs. Byers turns at that, shocked. “Surely you can’t be thinking of going home in this weather, Mike! It’s a blizzard out there!”

Mike goes to look out their kitchen window, pushing aside flowery yellow curtains, and is startled to see it has snowed at the very least half a foot since he arrived. 

“Dang, that is a lot of snow.”

“No, I’m not letting anyone drive in this weather, let alone let you bike home, it’s too dangerous! Here Mike, give me your parent’s number so I can let them know you’re staying tonight.”

Mike looks at Will, who shrugs but looks happy all the same. Mike gives her his moms number. 

***

The planets are beautiful- well, Will’s planets are beautiful. Mike is a little in awe at his mastery of color, as Mike’s own are colors that are pretty much straight from the tubes of paint, with maybe a little bit of white mixed in here or there. Will’s had carefully crafted color schemes. They are breathtaking. They are both a little afraid of mounting them onto the skewers, to attach to the “sun” in the center, but somehow, shockingly, it all seems to come together. Will makes a tiny model person, and Mike cuts sheets of black plastic wrap.

“Hey Will?” His voice is too quiet. It sounds too intimate, too small and yet too big to fill this tiny room. “Can I ask you something? Feel free to say no.”

Will, who had been shifting to recline onto his elbows, stills halfway through the motion. His shoulders are hunched a little too high to be naturally relaxed. “Depends,” he responds. 

“I was just curious as to what that was.” Mike points to the flipbook on the wall, the one he had noticed earlier. There were a lot of tallies, too many to be counting some uncommon instance, especially, considering the fact that there appeared to be many pages that had already been filled. He’s not sure why, but he feels like it’s important.

“Oh, uh,” He pauses, considering. He looks uncomfortable. The silence, for the first time, feels a little stifling. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time.”

It’s not an answer, and Mike wouldn’t want the answer unless Will was ready to give it, so he accepts the non-answer. Despite the aching curiosity and a tinge of disappointment at it not being sated, he still feels warm from the answer. “Another time”, he said. He wants to see me another time. 

Mike goes back to his scissors and plastic. 

All too soon, and yet not soon at all, their model is finished. Hours have passed, but it doesn’t really feel like so much time when they’ve been that focused on their project. Mike rolls over to be flat on his back, arching to sort out the tension that had been stuck in his shoulders for a while. He subconsciously registers that Will is side-eyeing him. 

“Hey Will,” Mike starts out, tilting his head back to look at him, “Thank you so much for helping me with this.”

Will smiles. “It was no problem, really.”

“No,” he says sincerely, “I mean it. I would have been so lost without your help, it really means a lot.”

Will looks like he might be blushing, but it could just be the lighting. He smirks suddenly. 

“You’ll just have to make it up to me,” Will says teasingly, sitting up fully. Mike sits up too, one eyebrow cocked. 

“Really?” He asks. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” He leans in a little closer. He smells like cinnamon. Mike’s brain short circuits. “The first thing you can do is…”

Mike goes cross eyed. 

“Watch a movie with me!” He jumps up to his feet suddenly. 

“Watch a movie?” Mike repeats stupidly. He feels lightheaded.

“Yup.” Will answers matter-of-factly. He is gathering blankets, and his own pillow, opening the door. Mike scrambles to follow him to the living room. 

“Star Wars?” Will looks back at him. His eyes are somehow innocent and mischievous at the same time. Mike’s stomach is still swooping. 

Mike nods.

They fall asleep to lightsaber clashes, betrayal, and some way cooler planets than the ones they created. If they wake up with their legs intertwined, well. Neither of them bring it up. 

***

When Monday finally comes rolling into view, like soft crystal clear tides lapping up sand on a sun soaked beach, Mike has never felt prouder. Their project is done- really, truly done. No more moving parts, no more research, no more examples. He carefully carries in his planetary model into his English classroom a half an hour before school starts. He doesn’t even have English until last block- he just wants to make sure that nothing happens to it during the day. 

His classes pass in a blur, as does his lunch. He is barely able to recognize the fact that Dustin, Lucas, and Will sit with them at lunch, past the small smiles he sends Will’s way every once in a while. He is only subconsciously aware that El and Max are back to tentatively approaching each other, despite the fact that neither of them really followed up with him. His leg never ceases jiggling. 

Finally their last block comes. Their English teacher pulls partners out of a hat to decide the order. Obviously, Dustin and Mike have to go last, because how else would the universe work? Does it really matter anyway? The world will soon find out. 

Dustin sets up their powerpoint. Mike sets their model, covered by a sheet, on the front table. It’s the end of the day, and the class is pretty disengaged. They are still curious enough about what’s under the sheet to be paying a little attention, but Mike knows that unless they capture their attention with something else, they’ll tune out as soon as they see what’s hidden from them. Only one other group that had presented that day had something 3d- everybody else just made signs. Mike was excited to knock their socks off. 

“Today,” Mike starts, “We are going to tell you why nothing you ever do in life matters.”

That got their attention.

“I know I, just like most of you, often wonder when and where I am going to use the things I learn in school. Especially in the subjects that I know I don’t want to study in college. What’s the point in wasting my time? But with that, there’s another question- what’s the point in studying anything at all, if one day we’re all just going to die anyway?”

Mike pauses for dramatic effect. No one is looking away now. He looks at Dustin, who is smirking, ready to take over his section soon. 

“If you think like this, congratulations. You’re a nihilist- you believe that life, our efforts on earth, and all that comes from it, it meaningless. And you wouldn’t be the first person to think like this either.”

Dustin jumps in, armed up to his teeth with facts and examples. They switch off, seamlessly weaving together what is arguably the best presentation Mike has ever been a part of. Their teacher nods and looks impressed the whole way through. Mike is breezing- talking about this is easy, it’s wonderful, it’s impactful, it’s important, it’s- wait. 

He stumbles halfway through his sentence about the importance of taking chances, despite the possibilities of negative outcomes, and the examples they found in literature. It’s easy. It’s impactful. It’s important. 

And he is missing it. 

And he is preaching empty words.

It feels a little like he has been electrocuted. 

Because how can he stand here and give a 5-minute-long spiel about how a chance not taken is a chance lost, while he hasn’t taken enough chances? How can he tell people to not be afraid to be spontaneous if he’s too afraid himself? How can he ask others to put their hearts on the line, if he isn’t doing it too?

He needs to find Will immediately. 

Mike finishes his presentation with Dustin, because of course he does- he has put too much work into this project to rush out in the middle of it, reality-altering realizations be damned. He goes through it with a buzz in his brain though, and even though the other students clap pretty loudly (for a group of uninterested seniors), their teacher is nodding at them approvingly, and Dustin is doing that shoulder clapping thing again, Mike can’t remember a single thing he said. Guess that’s public speaking for you. 

When the bell rings to signal the end of school, Mike wants to be the first one out the door, but their teacher calls them back to congratulate them. She wants permission to keep their project, to use as an example. If Mike’s mind were not in Art Room 2A, he would probably be swelling with pride, because well, they did it didn’t they? They did it after all. Dustin nods enthusiastically and sends him ecstatic grins, and Mike does his best impression of a puppet, all the while bouncing on his heels. School is out. Will could be gone by now. 

Dustin waves him off, saying that he’ll call him if they need to reassemble the dream team. Mike is one notch away from running down the empty hallways, back straight, brow low and determined, his mind so set that he doesn’t hear Dustin chuckle to himself. 

“But, I assume I’ll be seeing you well before then.” Dustin says to empty air. He gives himself a high five. “Dustin, you are a genius.” He walks to the front entrance, hands in his pockets, whistling to himself. 

When he sees Lucas there, they do that little bro hug, and Lucas asks him how the presentation went.

“Great!” Dustin replies. “It seems I was right on all fronts of my various hypotheses.”

“How can you be sure?”

Dustin snickers. “He had the realization exactly when I thought he would. Spouting his transition bit about the “the consequence of a chance not taken, is worse than the consequence of one taken”, blah blah blah. Lost his place. Blank eyes, the rest of the speech. Raced out of there as soon as we were done.”

They trot down the steps and start making their way to the car. Lucas looks begrudgingly impressed. 

He sighed, and said, “I still don’t understand how you knew all this would happen if you and Mike became partners for this project.”

Dustin grins, stopping halfway through tossing his books into the back seat. His smile is manic again, but it’s equally parts naturally innocent and cunning designed. 

“Lucas, I’m the smartest dumbass in this whole school. There’s no way this wouldn’t have happened, no matter who we were paired with.”

Lucas concedes. They drive home.

***  
Mike feels like an idiot. He broke into a run as soon as he got out of Dustin’s sight and went straight for the art room. Obviously, he wasn’t there, school had already been over for at least seven minutes, and who would be caught dead here any longer that they had to be? When the art teacher looks confusedly at him, leaning on the doorframe and panting, he asked if, stupidly, if Will was here. No, he had replied, he’d left with the rest of the class. (He was a pretty young art teacher- good looking. He wondered if this was any factor in Will’s talent. He also wondered why he himself had never taken an art class, and idly thought about if it was too late to sign up for one).

Standing in the hallway and feeling sorry for himself and his draining adrenaline, Mike feels like an idiot again when he realizes he has at least one more place he can check for Will in the immediate premises. 

Bursting into the library and catching eyes with Will feels like a dream. Gone are the hidden meanings and stuttered questions. Gone are the notes, passed briefly but deeply, between two pining souls. Gone are the moments when their eyes would catch each other, but only at separate moments. Mike opens the door. His eyes go to Will. Will’s eyes go to him. 

No book pretenses. Mike walks right up to the front desk. He forgets to be afraid, too busy drinking in the face of his revelation. 

“Hey,” says Will. His voice sounds like it’s coming from a dream. Mike has no idea how Will can still look like the same beautiful soul while all the colors in Mike’s world have inverted. No. When all the colors in his world have shifted to the right hue. 

“Hi.” Mike remembers to respond. 

“How did your presentation go? It was last block, right?”

Mike lets his eyes glance around. He’s not holding up a line or anything. No one else is there, except for a gaggle of phone-checking freshmen waiting to get picked up near the door. 

“It was okay. No,” he interrupts himself, “It was better than okay. It went really, really well.”

Will grins genuinely. “That’s good!”

“Our teacher wants to use our project as an example. Is that alright with you?”

“Mike that’s awesome! It must have been a great presentation.”

Mike’s heart stutters as he hears his name leave Will’s lips. He steels himself to lean closer, across the counter. 

“Giving this presentation… it really opened my eyes to some things, you know?” he stammers out. 

Will raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“It’s just,” he swallows and starts again, “Well I talked a lot about chance, in my part of the speech at least. Chance, and consequence, and the different paths that they can lead you down. You remember me mentioning that to you?”

Will nods. It’s like watching a storm clear up. Motions of wind whipping through hair and rain splattering cheeks that slowly disappear. A confusion of sky that sorts itself out. Mike presses on. 

“When I was talking, I just felt like… I felt like it was more than a project that I was just doing for school. It was more than a grade, more than a speech, more than a cosmology book.” He looks into Will’s eyes. “More than a model planet system.”

The sun is breaking through the clouds. 

“It’s got me thinking… that maybe I should be living what I’m preaching?” He clears his throat. “That if nothing really matters, and nothing is stopping me from being happy now… then maybe I should take some risks?” 

Mike is shining. 

“So, Will, would you… like to go out with me sometime?”

He doesn’t have time to hold his breath. Will is shining too. 

“Of course I would, you idiot. Were the notes not obvious enough for you?”

They are both shining, together. 

***

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Hey Max what happened? Is everything okay?_

__

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_it wasn’t okay, but i think it might end up being okay_

__

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Oh?_

__

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_i think maybe el and i aren’t very good at communication_

__

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Really now_

__

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_> :(_

__

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Well I’m just glad you all have been mature enough to sort it out_   
_Honestly I’m quite impressed_

____

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_well i wouldn’t say that it was entirely our doing_   
_i did go to someone for advice_

To: zoomerrrrr<3  
_Really? Who?_

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_actually the guy who was friends with Lucas has been helping me out with it_   
_he’s very good at being rational with all this relationship stuff_

To: zoomerrrrr <3  
_Is he now?_

From: zoomerrrrr<3  
_i just had the best thought_  
_mike you should totally date this guy_   
_hes small and cute and gay, he’s your type to a T_   
_we met him at the library that one time you dragged me i think??_

Mike smirks to himself. Man, he has a lot to catch Max up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot BELIEVE that i finally finished this  
> like this is literally the first chaptered fic i have ever finished  
> also i lowkey want to write a little oneshot from will's perspective about his life in this universe because i have all these ideas about it, we will see. let me know if that's something you would be interested in !  
> the "feelin stupid" playlist that I mention literally once actually exists! i didnt make it for this fic its rly just a playlist of mine but it fit so i mentioned it, heres the link if ur interested: https://open.spotify.com/user/bridget_frances/playlist/63sIZEPZZK8EISIlv1DdbD?si=xo7-S1HPQVOc-olcCTaDUw


End file.
